The Trail of Time
by Tibby Wynter
Summary: Arthur and Francis are meant to be. However, Arthur has been sentenced to death for being a warlock and bewitching Francis, the prince. Even though Francis manages to change the penalty, when he decides to join Arthur, they're sent far forward in time in a world much different from their own. There their bond is tested by many and one warlock that wants Arthur's power for himself.


"Was I not clear?" The prince questioned, his usual blue eyes filled with wonder and excitement now turned to stone as he glared at his father, the king.

"It matters not; he has been sentenced to death!"

"That's unacceptable! Being a warlock is nothing to die for!"

"Can't you see? You're still under that creature's spell! Before the warlock, you hated anyone who used magic-"

"No, you hate them; you try them for something they're born with."

"This magic must be wiped out before they can do the same to us!"

There was a long silence between them and the on-looking nobles as the young prince brushed his hair behind his ear in thought.

"Give him the Trial of Time…" The prince pleaded in a lowered tone.

The silence in the room was broken by the sudden gasps and murmurs amongst the nobles.

"You know this warlock is different from the others! If he wished it, he or one of his brothers could easily bring him back."

"That is why I intend for him to burn." The king countered, simply refusing to change a verdict for a warlock as feared as the one that now put so much worry on him.

"He will escape death; that family always does! With the trial, you can keep him guarded for all of eternity."

Once more, there was silence from the king as he mused over what his heir had to say. To trap the magic user with magic could indeed work, preventing him from escaping for as long as such a spell was in place. Realizing this, the king let out a small sigh in defeat and shook his head.

"So be it. Bring the warlock forward." He ordered with a wave of his hand.

On command, the doors to the throne room opened followed by the pair of armoured guards leading along a man in chains. With raggedy blond hair, cold, green eyes that looked as if they were devoid of love or any sort of compassion, and magic as well, he was one most would try to avoid. However, the young prince couldn't help but pry past that and find the man hidden behind that; one that he found absolutely charming.

"Arthur Kirkland." The king started, causing the warlock to stand tall now with all eyes on him. "I've decided that you will not be burned at the stake for your crimes."

The warlock scoffed at such a statement before giving a sarcastic bow in reply. "I thank you for your kindness, sire." He hissed, horribly doubtful that such a thing was true.

"Instead I sentence you to the Trial of Time." The king continued as if Arthur hadn't spoken a word.

This certainly came as a shock, leaving Arthur to simply stare at the king as if waiting to be told it had all been a cruel joke. When no such relief came, he looked to the prince who simply nodded reassuringly before crossing his arms behind his back.

"I'd rather die!" He shouted with his eyes still set on the prince.

"It has already been decided. The trial will begin immediately. Take him to the dungeons; I will act as witness to the ritual myself."

"No, father!" The prince protested. "Allow me. After all, this is my fault."

This seemed to please the king as he nodded slowly.

"Accepting some humility? It seems the spell the warlock placed on you has finally broken."

"Yes, it has." He replied before turning around and walking past the guards without even a glance to Arthur.

Arthur was escorted behind now as they headed down the winding halls and steps of the castle, going further and further into the darkness that lead to the dungeons. Nobody uttered a word, certainly not the prince and the warlock while there were others present. When it seemed that the last lights of the world had faded away, they came to a long hallway lit by a line of torches that only led them further away from the prying eyes unaware of the magical artefact hidden away by the very king that started the purge of magic.

With every step, the warlock seemed to grow paler until they finally came to a single door at the end of the hall. While the prince stepped aside, the guards came forward with Arthur and unlocked the door, behind this sat the feared device. To any other, it would appear to be a simple, wooden chair, but anyone who knew better would recognize it as the Throne of Years. Simply by sitting on it, monstrous, barbed vines would latch onto any near enough, embedding the thorns into their skin. This would cause the victim to fall into a deep, endless sleep that kept the, alive until the vines were cut or the victim was killed in their sleep.

This was the prince's plan: keep Arthur alive at all costs. However, Arthur didn't seem terribly fond of this plan.

"Wait!" He demanded as he was forced forward and towards the cursed chair. "You can't do this!"

Despite his best efforts, the guards made easy work of turning him around and pushing him back into the chair. Just as they retreated back, the earth seemed to shake and the vines associated with the chair burst through the stone floor and latched onto the legs of the chair before ravelling on up towards Arthur. Fear in a Kirkland was indeed a rare sight, and not one the prince enjoyed.

"Francis!" He shouted as the first of many thorns broke into his skin.

There was a brief moment that Arthur furrowed his brow as if he was being spoken to. However, it was only a moment later that he simply slumped back into the Throne as the vines continued to wrap around him and trap him in their spell. Seeing as their work was done, the guards turned to leave before looking to their prince.

"Sire, shall we return to the king?" One inquired as Francis took a step forward.

"No."

"Sire?"

Before they could raise a hand, Francis charged towards the sleeping warlock and struck his hand against the thorns. All at once, he collapsed beside the throne as his eyes started to drift shut, each thorn making it more and more difficult to stay awake.

'_Such a waste…'_

Finally, the prince fell, unable to keep his eyes opened any longer. Under the spell of the Throne of Years, the two slept through the many years to come.

* * *

**Yesssss, I know I have a RusUK story going on right now as well, but I'm sort of stuck on that one at the moment, so I'm starting this one because I had this prologue floating around in my mind and scrawled down in my notebook for a few weeks now and I really wanted to expand on it. So hopefully I'll be able to continue this very soon... If not, I believe it works nicely on it's own right here.**


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